


Camisado

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Series: AntiDark [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Stream of Consciousness, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Can't take the kid from the fight</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Take the fight from the kid </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Camisado

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blessed With a Curse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817678) by [GalaxyGhosty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty), [Quintessentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessentia/pseuds/Quintessentia). 



> pov change at the dash

It's late as you walk home after a long shift, eyes down and mind swimming with the events of the day. You're so consumed by your thoughts that you don't see the three figures at the other end of the alley when you turn to take a shortcut, something you do whenever you stay in late to clean up and close the restaurant. You look up when you hear an odd sound, a choked-up gurgling as if someone's choking.

At the end of the long alley you spot three men. Two with dyed hair standing in front of another man, back pressed against the brick wall, eyes wide. Blood spurts out from a gash along his neck, and he grips at the man in front of him, a muscular guy with red hair and a huge, sharp grin. The man bleeding out shakes and gurgles, slumping down the wall in a heap as the red-headed man lets go, a jagged piece of glass glinting in his hand, still dripping with blood.

You stand stock still at the other end of the alley, feet away from the gruesome scene. You feel yourself start hyperventilating, willing yourself to be quiet as you start to back away as slowly and silently as you can, eyes still glued to the men standing over the bleeding body of the other.

You step on something that makes you slip slightly, foot scraping as you try to stay steady. The two bowed heads snap up, eyes boring holes into you as you shake with fear.

You turn around and run.

You run faster then you have in years, your own footsteps echoing loudly, bouncing off the damp brick walls of the narrow alley before you make it out onto the street, running toward the suburbs. You need to get help, you have to lose them and get help.

You feel for your phone and pull it out of your coat pocket, fumbling as you pull it out while running. You realize too late that it won't do anything, remembering earlier when a customer had spilled lukewarm coffee on you, frying your phone beyond repair. You curse and keep running, running harder as the sound of footsteps gets louder behind you. You don’t look back, running as hard as you can through the empty streets leading toward the suburbs, toward houses with people who will be able to help.

You're turning a corner, just a couple blocks from the suburban homes when you're grabbed by the hood and yanked back hard, making you stumble. Bright green eyes bore into you, the pale face of the other man pulled into a snarl. He wraps cold, long fingers around your neck and you kick and fight, try to knock him off you. The pressure around your windpipe tightens, his hands squeezing tight and leaving no room for oxygen. You keep kicking, thrashing wildly in a mad bid to free yourself. You claw at his shoulders, his arms, as your vision starts to swim, going black around the edges. You keep kicking, though your movements are sluggish. You try to dig nails into his arms, grip loose as your vision gets blurry, fighting to keep your eyes open, to get away. Your eyes slip shut, and you can't bring yourself to open them again.

-

You watch as Anti grips the kid's neck, squeezing the life out of him with eyes intent and a tight grip. His knuckles are white with the grip, face a scowl as he finally lets go, the man falling to the ground. Your heart races at the look on his face as he studies the body, the surrounding area. His eyes fall on you and you shiver, nerves buzzing under your skin.

"We need to get back. You look like a fuckin butcher."

You smirk, running a bloody hand through your hair in a seductive manner. Anti is less then impressed, looking around again before stalking back toward Mark’s apartment, leaving you to hurry behind to catch up.

Your mind is full of images of Anti. The cool, calculating look as he watched the man bleeding out in the alley. His sharp eyes zeroed in on the man as you both chased him down. The snarl on his face as he gripped his neck tight, ignoring the nails trying desperately to claw at him through his jacket, the kick to his shin as the boy tried to wriggle free.

You shiver again, heart racing as you look over at him again, eyes straight forward, sharp as knives and so, so gorgeous. You want to run your bloodstained fingers through his hair and yank, you want to bite his plump bottom lip until you taste his blood between your teeth. Your skin burns with the need to be close to him, shivering as the night air ghosts over your heated skin and the blood drying on your arm. Anti's eyes meet yours and your heart does something odd in your chest, his eyes studying yours intently before looking forward again.

You swallow, throat dry, and finally pull your eyes away from his searching eyes, focusing on getting home.

**Author's Note:**

> I just found this song yesterday and have been listening to it on loop. the line "take the fight from the kid" really stuck with me, and it was so sad. idk I immediately thought of dark and anti (specifically anti) so I wrote this. lyrics and title from "Camisado" by Panic! At the Disco


End file.
